


Sticks and Stones

by AnAngryRat



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Enemies to Lovers, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-30
Updated: 2020-05-01
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:34:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23933122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnAngryRat/pseuds/AnAngryRat
Summary: Clint is trapped in a cabin in the middle of winter with a scary assassin. At least there's enough board games to keep them entertained for awhile.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton, Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 6
Kudos: 151





	1. 1999

**Author's Note:**

> Imma be real with ya'll I haven't watched Winter Soldier since 2014. Forgive me fandom gods.

Task: Assassinate all on mountain then come round back to home base.

Three out of five targets gone. Sniper and Main Target are all that’s left. He’s up in a snow mound. The asset had found him moments ago. It wasn’t hard. The sniper was whistling to himself. Then he stood up and started walking towards the cabin still whistling. His stroll was casual. Too casual. The Asset sped up his pace he needed to finish this quickly.

The Sniper’s head flicked. He knew. The Asset was wearing snow coverage but it wasn't enough to stop the Sniper. How? Then the sniper started sprinting clumsily through the snow. The Asset caught up easily, the tundra familiar. The Sniper turned when he was an arms length away and said with a grimace.

“Mahnahmahnah.” _Click._

What? That was the last thought The Asset had before everything went dark.

Clint woke up to a horrible ringing in his ears. He was supposed to be in the house when the bomb went off. His team were two miles away when he noticed they’d been cut off. How in the hell did that guy get here so fast? He could have sworn Taggart’s (may his racist ass rest in hell) last words were “Single Burnett Male heading towards our Vehicle Barton.” Clint was relatively certain that the man he blew himself up with was that man. How in the fuck did he make two miles in the middle of a snow storm in twenty minutes.

Clint sat up and coughed. It sent slicing pain across his chest. He begged his ribs not to be broken. Okay. Take stock. Ears ringing. Ribs cracked. He wiggled his fingers and toes. All limbs here. He briefly reached down to check himself and almost passed out in the snow from relief that little Clint was still there. All vitals check. He pushed himself onto his knees which was another level of pain he was not expecting. That concussive blast must have broken every blood vessel in his body, Jesus fuckingChrist.

Knees good. He told himself. It was getting dark and he had to make it to the targets cabin. He slowly pushed himself to standing with moments of bright white flashing across his eyes and more vomit than he deemed necessary. Fuck…. He stood fully upright taking a deep biting breath of cold air and looked around him in the dimming sunset at the area and nearly shat himself. The assassin dude was lying face up in the snow no more than six feet from him. His breaths were coming in small white puffs.

“Why the _fuck_ are you not dead?!” Clint shouted. He thinks. His voice sounded oddly muffled. Was probably the ringing. Fuck. Clint turned around and looked at the cabin still a hundred yards away. He looked back at the assassin. That was a lot of blood… Clint was supposed to be a mercenary for Chrissake, he could leave a man trying to kill him to die in the cold. He just murdered a family man alone in his family's summer cabin. Granted it was the middle of December in Russia but still. He was a cold hard assassin. Clint sighed looking once more at the man’s faint breaths. He crouched down to heft him up by the shoulders which caused his stomach to roil in pain but he ignored it. At least if this guy died, Clint could eat him to survive the winter.

The Asset woke up fully alert. His back had been badly burned and he checked his neck, head, fingers and toes…His arm was out of commission. He looked at it, no more than a piece of distorted shrapnel attached viciously to his body. His right leg was broken and he was pretty sure his lung was healing from being punctured. Not the worst condition. He can’t process when the worst was but it was giving a headache even around what was most likely a major concussion. Instead he looked around his surrounding. He was naked against what felt like a fur rug next to a fire. There was a thin blanket covering him but other than that it was just his almost immovable body and the air. He pushed himself up onto an elbow and caught sight of the sniper looking just as battered as he felt snoring with all of The Asset’s clothes held defensively against his chest on a small cot set up in the corner of the room.

Task: Assassinate all on mountain. Three down two to go.

The Asset attempted to sit up and accomplish this but realized he was lying right next to another body. Main Target. Four down one to go. The Sniper snored. The Asset flexed his muscles. His left leg was shattered. He couldn’t walk…yet. Maybe the sniper would come to him and then he would attack. The Asset laid back and waited. The body began to smell.

Clint woke with a start that hurt his entire body. He reached clumsily for a bottle of aspirin that he’d found. He popped four out and chugged them down with water. He gasped. Time to work. He stood up and stretched gathering all the clothes the other man had under one arm and taking them with him. He took a wide berth around the two bodies. At least one of those he was going to have to get rid of. Today. Gross. Clint wandered to underneath the cabin to where the water heater was. He stuffed the assassin’s clothes into it and set it all the way up. Then he looked begrudgingly up the stairs. His right foot had a minor sprain and he felt like shit… He sighed once more and walked up. At least when he was done dumping Dr. Dumbass LooseLips some where in the snow he’d be able to take a great shower.

He stomped up and rubbed at his ears which were still ringing. He was starting to get worried. He was _really_ close to that blast. Shit. His dad might have actually made him go permanently deaf. He began humming _Mahnahmanah_ to himself to make it better. He could barely hear it like cotton was stuffed in his brain. He swallowed and kept singing his way up the stairs. At least his brain could hear it clearly, pink and purple muppets and all. He got dressed in Dr. Talks Too Much’s room and geared up for the weather. He briefly contemplated just burning the body in house then his nose wrinkled. Just get the body out of the house. Nature will do the rest.

Clint waddled out still feeling like hell. He looked at his mess. Why did he bring in the assassin? Because he couldn’t leave a man to die. That would be cruel. Killing them quickly was a blessing. 

Clint’s next sigh shook his entire body with reluctance. He bent over Dr. Dumb As A Bag of Bricks to get a good heft for a fireman's carry when Mr. Assassin made a very good attempt to grab him with the not Terminator hand. Clint dodged then flicked the mans nose. “Kill me when you can walk.” Clint told him and then picked up Dr. Couldn’t Shut Up in a much faster fireman’s pull than he should have. He stumbled a little then grumbled and went through the narrow hallway that connected the front door to the kitchen and the living room with all the warmth. God he was hungry…Body. Get rid of the body. Clint opened the door and stubbornly walked out into the snow.

The Asset had heard The Sniper’s humming the same tune as yesterday but disjointed as if half the notes fit. He wondered if the blond man’s hearing was impaired and if he could use that to his advantage…Later when he wasn’t embarrassing himself. The Asset rubbed his nose. He hadn’t expected the flick to hurt. It reminded him of blue eyes and thin arms. He’d been out of stasis for approximately forty eight hours. Another forty eight and he’d have been out longer than he could ever possibly remember. At this time he’d be getting flashes of things. Past events never connecting. He wondered how long until he went crazy with questions. The Asset turned over to check his metal arm. He looked it over to see if his tracker was on. All he saw was a cracked blackened shard that appeared to be out of order. No tracker. He briefly wondered if they had one in his brain. He’d find out soon. So would The Sniper. He felt a flashing moment of emotion over the thought. Then he remembered the man was an idiot trying to heal him when anyone with half a brain cell would have left him to die.

Clint came back in after leaving the body as far as he possibly could away from the cabin. Which was still quite always from the nifty shed nearly a quarter mile away from the cabin. It appeared that yesterday was just the storm getting ready. It was near arctic levels of frenzy and Clint worried he’d loose sight of the cabin and die in the snow. He didn’t and now he was back in the blessed heat with company. He closed and locked the door. Then went to the sink and gulped down water. He wiped his mouth. He had to feed himself and angry angry assassin. Ugh… Why was living so hard? He opened a bag of stale Doritos for himself then grabbed one closed and a closed bottle of water for Mr. Assassin…Clint had to name him. He came over and stopped by the dude’s body. He was hot. Square jaw and cheek bones you could cut glass on. Step back George Clooney this one assassin is ready to destroy the panties of all the ladies. Clint shrugged and dropped the stuff about an arms reach away from the dude.

“Got a name?”

The man glared at him. Tight lipped and wary.

Clint nodded. Typical. “Imma call you Jack, after Jack Nicholson. You both got that angry psychotic motherfucker look.” Clint told him then walked away. He was really looking forward to that shower.

The Asset debated the pro’s and cons to eating the food. He’d been immunized against most poisons and while a small bomb going off couldn’t kill him, starving could. He ate. It tasted like garbage. Once he was done the Sniper wasn’t back and he was…bored. His focus had been gradually receding from The Task to other things like how the fire was dying and how he was getting cold and that he was pretty sure that his floating rib went all the way through his left lung and was slowly pulling itself out. He wanted clothes. Being naked on what he found out as soon as the Sniper took the Main Target away, bearskin rug was vaguely vulnerable. He couldn’t walk. His greatest weapon was a pile of _heavy_ metal attached to him. There was not much left to do than look out the large plexiglass windows and watch as the snow piled high and listen to the winds grow loud. That’s when the thoughts came in. Trains, street ways not completely finished, hungry people, boys screaming about news articles, the smell of smog and sulfur and _people_ hugging the air. Bright sky's filled with stars. Thin arms and big blue eyes. Over and over, the lines never connecting. He clenched his jaw and looked outside calculating hours and time. It was more pleasant that following lines that go nowhere.

Clint walked around the place after his shower and noticed a computer and a storage room filled with military meals from the fifties and every kind of canned food know to man. It was stocked to fill a family of four for a year. Thank fuck. Clint grabbed a six pack of Guinness and headed out to the living room maybe living zombie will be more talkative now that he’s eaten…Clint should probably make real food. He stopped and turned on his heal and grabbed two cans of Clam Chowder and saltines. Clint walked out singing _Take On Me_ cause it wasn’t like he could hear himself miss that ear piercing note anyway.

He poured the cans into bowls and placed them in the microwave on the counter then opened a can of beer for himself then another for his deadly friend and walked back through the archway leading to the living room. He set the can an arms distance away from him.

“Didn’t poison it but like your entire body is fucked up so it might be easier to drink opened,” Clint said sitting on his cot further away from the Jack. Jack gave him a sidelong look but didn't move other than that. Clint began singing A-Ha again. He was bored but also concussed so he almost didn’t see the beer hurtling towards his head. Clint ducked before it could land but that didn’t stop it from getting his shirt and hair soaked.

“Aw Christ! Now you don’t get these sweet arms to give you a sponge bath anytime soon.”

“—re giv—ee---ead—ache—” Jack’s voice was coarse and Clint had to close his eyes to parse out what he just said. _Headache._ Ah. Well still. Fuck him.

“Just say so, don’t spill your beer over it.” Clint grumbled standing up. The microwave beeped saying their meals were done.

Clint pulled off his wet shirt and used it to dry off his hair to the best of his abilities. He grabbed two spoons and went back to the room. He was probably going to have to prop Jack up some how. That was dangerous given how the guy was so determined to murder him. He looked set down the bowls and looked up and tripped over the cot. Jack had sat up by himself using his prosthetic as a prop to hold himself up. Clint groaned. Every bone in his body ached. What the fuck. No really what the fuck, the man should be dead. But…. Clint gathered himself back up and looked at him. He was sweating profusely and was ten seconds from passing out. He also had a spoon of chowder in his mouth and was shoveling it down. He must be really hungry, Clint thought watching would dribble down his chin. Clint set up the cot and moved around looking for something he could lean on and found a chair that he could wedge between Jack and the fireplace.

“Move.” Clint ordered positioning the chair just so. Jack might have heard him or he just learned that with Clint preoccupied he could eat the other bowl of soup. Clint pushed the chair between them in that small moment and Jack startled when he sat back and he hit the chair. Clint dusted off his hands and went back to his cot to steal saltines before Jack could also eat those. Clint sat on his cot, eating saltines and sipping his beer. He also observed. Clint could have sworn Jack had an ugly scratch across his stubble on the right side of his face yesterday.

“What are you,” Clint mumbled.

Jack looked up. He hadn’t said anything except “shut up” to Clint but for just a moment a deep groove appeared between his brows and he looked like a lost puppy. Clint had a sudden moment of sympathy.

“You don’t know.” He said.

Jack scowled and apparently done demolishing the clam chowder and leaving a mess on the table laid back down. It appeared he was done with this interaction.

The Sniper had disappeared. Once he was done with his food he walked into the back rooms and began rustling around. The Asset did not appreciate how The Sniper (he really should come up with a name) read him so clearly. The man with three total interactions had come to three conclusions, The Asset was not totally human, he was designed to kill, and he was unsure of what made him like this. The Asset glared at the ceiling with it’s small skylight showing nothing but gray snow. He had to stop and close his eyes. Snow covered forests, snow in a park. His head throbbed. He relaxed his breathing. He hadn’t slept since entering the cabin and he knows that The Sniper (The Asset didn’t know why but Steve seemed to fit him. Must be the blue eyes and blonde hair) has slept at least twice since they entered. He began to meditate. Heal. Complete task. Maybe pretend Steve died. Something clenched in his chest. Steve would not do as a name for The Sniper. He let his body go as lax as it could being in so much pain. He would ask the Sniper his name. He would leave… He slept.

Clint went through all the rooms. He found a TV and a VHS player in the bedroom and put those on hold to move to the living room (with how fast Jack was healing there was no way in hell he was leaving Clint’s sight.) in the next bedroom he found board games and a keychain Simon Says that Clint broke. It only played Blue, Blue, Green, Blue over and over again. He also might not have been able to hear it. Clint set it aside and grabbed the board games and decks of cards. He brought those out and noticed Jack was sleeping. He set them next to the family photos and decided they’d still be good for later. There was only one bathroom but the tub was huge. Excellent. Washing Jack might be easier than previously expected. The last room was locked. Clint went into the storage room to grab a screw driver and removed the doorknob. He tossed it onto the filing cabinet next to the door. Wasn’t like they were going to need it anyway. It appeared to be a work room with a computer and monitor on a large desk and several piles of papers scattered everywhere. Clint picked a few up. Russian. Clint rolled his eyes. He tapped on the computer to open the screen. Password. Shit.

Clint could break bones, break locks, break laws and hearts but he was absolute shit at computers. Maybe Jack knows… well Jack’s sleeping Clint yawned. Maybe he should sleep too then go about setting up the entertainment systems in the living room so he and Jack could watch together. Jack may be a brick wall but he was better than nothing.


	2. 1999-2000

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Monopoly was a game in the thirties apparently.

Unfortunately Jack was out of it for the next couple days. He would haul himself up to eat and then immediately go back to sleep, one time sleeping mid-bite, beef jerky hanging out of his mouth. Clint was genuinely fearing for his fingers life as he pulled that out of Jack’s mouth and set him back on the bear skin rug. Clint took the time while Jack was K.O.’d to give him baths and set up the VHS system. He’d watched _The Princess Bride_ , _The Aristocrats, The Little Mermaid, The God Father, Weird Science, Ferris Bueler’s day Off, Speed,_ and more. He’s sure he watched more. There was a good stack of about fifty of them in the main bedrooms closet.

Jack never seemed to mind being naked but Clint did. The first bath was awkward for the both of them. Mostly because Jack stirred while Clint was in the middle of ogling his dick. It was a nice dick. Thick, and larger than average but not tear you in half big. Clint was mildly surprise to find that he had a treasure trail and that the curtain matched carpet. So…Clint may have been thinking good and hard about that dick when Jack’s eyes opened as if he went from asleep to mid run that fast. Clint swallowed…Jack needed a wipe down…and a new name. Clint shuddered at the thought of cock worshipping Jack Nicholson. Disgusting.

Jack gestured ‘gimme’ with his hand and Clint handed over the cloth and bucket. Jack finished cleaning himself and Clint was surprised how flexible he was despite how fucking broken his entire body was. There had been a third degree burn and several inches of flesh ripped off from Jack’s back but now it seemed like he had a bad sun burn and some scars. Clint did his best not to back away at this news. The only thing stopping Jack from murdering him was a broken leg at this time and it was… terrifying.

Jack placed the bucket and cloth back on the coffee table and then promptly passed out. Clint let out a breath. At least it was over. Jack continued to heal and Clint continued to live but he did not regain his hearing. _The Little Mermaid_ just isn’t the same when he can’t hear Ariel sing properly.

Approximately four days into their little foray of living together Jack sat up and dropped a bomb.

“I –eed—oo—it—” He said sitting up violently.

Clint’s head whipped around he had been in the middle of creating a card stack and he couldn’t figure out what Jack had just said.

“I,” Clint almost couldn’t bring himself to say it. “I didn’t get that.”

Jack reached across the table to ruining Clint’s card stack and grabbed Clint by the collar of his shirt to bring his lips to his ear. “I. Need. To. Shit.” He enunciated.

Clint nodded. “Okay.” That’s a normal thing to say. Almost too normal given that Jack has only said like five words to him. What bearing it had on the moment was another thing.

Jack grunted in frustration. “I. Can’t Walk.”

Oh. Right. Clint pulled away from Jack to round the coffee table. He crouched, told himself to lift with his knees and grabbed Jack’s left arm.

“I’m going to need you not to fart in my face for your own safety.” Clint said hefting him up.

Jack mumbled something intelligible but Clint had a good idea of what he was getting at. He took him too the bathroom carefully set him on the toilet and closed the door. He wiped his hands then realized the poor dude had been holding it for days. How had his intestines and bladder not exploded? Maybe that was part of the super healing.

Why hadn’t _Clint_ considered it? Clint shrugged he wasn’t a nurse. Probably good the dude was inhuman because otherwise he’d have a fucked up leg from being improperly placed. He idly tapped his fingers together right outside the door. He wondered how Jack could tell he was done and if he needed to be wiped and oh god that dude probably wants clothes. Clint left to the bedroom and shifted through the clothes left over to see if he could find a shirt and sweat pants for Jack. He was kind of built like a brick shit house and looked as though a bomb wouldn’t move him. (It, in fact, didn’t.) Clint returned to outside the bathroom caught a whiff and decided to leave the clothes just outside as a reminder and went back to the cot in the living room. He laid down. It was a mistake…ten minutes later he was asleep.

The Asset never wanted to leave the room. He wanted god to strike him down. Steve would be laughing him to the grave if he could see this. The Asset covered his face and sat for a moment before thinking of what next. He was clean…but… he looked at the shower longingly. His hair was so greasy and thank god it seemed like The Sniper shaved in the shower so Bucky could also shave. Bucky looked down at his leg tied to a ski in an amateur attempt to get his leg to heal straight.

Fuck it. He needed a bath. He started the water and then painstakingly pulled himself into the tub so it could pour over him. The water was volcano hot. He let out an involuntary groan. He’d been glued to that godforsaken bear skin for who knows how long and the hot water was heavenly.

He reached precariously up and was able to grab the shampoo and shaving cream with the razor. Holy shit, he was gonna be human again. He could not wait to tell the guys. The Asset’s hands froze. His head wasn’t hurting but flashes of moments long before now were still coming. He used to be in the army it seemed. The US army. He would have thought it the Soviet Army. They went on missions where showering was a pipe dream and he’d been there with Steve. His friend. Bucky stared at the contents of the bathroom. Were the memories real or copies from the reprogramming. He shook his head and began to lather up the soap. He was filthy and he needed a change that was all that mattered right now.

Clint woke up from his nap with a very angry Jack very close to his face. Clint flipped out of the cot.

“Fuck!”

“What—bout---I---ant---alk---id---oo---ot---der---and?” Jack snarled he was pulled up haphazardly by the cot, his left leg sticking out at an odd angle and the robot arm hidden under the shirt Clint gave him.

“I was _tired_.” Clint snapped back. He then noticed that Jack was freshly shaved and showered.

Jack rolled his eyes and flopped over on to his back.

“Sorry.” Clint got up. He rounded the cot and got ready to fireman carry Jack. Once he was settled on his shoulder Clint dropped him gracelessly onto the cot. He turned around to grab a blanket and stopped when he felt a hand in his shirt. He glanced over his shoulder to look at Jack.

“Food,” he said.

Clint sighed. He was actually hungry. “Only if you give me your name.” He said jokingly.

“—ucky.”

Clint paused and made sure to watch his lips. “Yes?”

“Bucky.”

Clint couldn’t help it he laughed.

Bucky was probably in the middle of the most humiliating day of his life. His name which he had not grasped for who the fuck knows how long finally came to him and what was the response? Laughter. It was disquieting uneven honking laughter. It seemed that the Sniper was indeed possibly deaf. He looked at Bucky’s face and burst into giggles again.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” he gasped. “My names Clint.” He wheezed folding over Bucky’s prone form to grasp the side of the cot for support. “Oh my god, the scary superhuman assassin has a name that theLone Ranger would name his horse.” The last part of that sentence came on a soft squeak as Clint devolved into further laughter.

“Food.” Bucky repeated.

Clint was still shaking with laughter but obligingly got up and wandered into the kitchen, then into the storage unit placed inside the kitchen. “If you’re awake after this, wanna play Monopoly?” Clint asked.

He was rustling around and Bucky was surprised that just an offer of a name made him so casual and friendly…though he was like that before, Bucky had just been asleep. He chose not to answer. Fifty-fifty chance Clint could catch it anyway.

Twenty minutes later Bucky and Clint were eating baked beans and sourdough across from each other. Clint had moved Bucky from the cot to the couch and created a small table for him out of a board game called Candy Land and some wire hangers. Clint sat cross legged on the cot shoveling food into his mouth.

“So, Monopoly?”

Bucky had a spoon half-way to his mouth. He thought for a moment and shrugged. Clint clapped his hands like a child giddy with excitement. “Sweet!” He set his bowl down and leaned over to grab the board game. Clint was setting it all up and Bucky stopped midchew to stare at the little hell beasts littering the board. Pokémon Monopoly, the box read. The fuck is Pokémon?

Clint held all the little creatures in his palm. “I think,” he said grabbing a small round pink creature, “that you’re a JigglyPuff and I’m Evee, cause I’m normal.”

“What.” Bucky set down his bowl and bread.

Clint shrugged. “Ya, know…Pokémon. That thing that came out awhile ago and now infests American homes.”

Bucky stared at him willing his words to make sense.

“Cartoons?” Clint asked.

Bucky did know what the fuck cartoons were. He’d seen Gertie the Dinosaur thankyouverymuch. His expression must have said as much because Clint shrugged.

“Maybe it’s too hip and new for assassins to know,” Clint said.

He continued to set up the game which consisted of fake cash and little labeled squares. Bucky had a flash to a game that had to have been the precursor to this monstrosity. At least he wouldn’t have to ask for directions.

Bucky wiped the floor with Clint. Absolutely bankrupts him and then Clint in an act of desperation sold him his shirt and his pants and now sat only in underwear while Bucky sat back with his scary Terminator arm looking smug as a bug.

“How the fuck do you not know what Pokémon is but are able to play Monopoly better than me?” Clint whined into his hands as he admitted defeat.

Bucky scratched his jaw. “They had it when I was a kid.”

Clint sighed. Everything he got out of Bucky was vague. He grew up in America. His favorite color is black and his age doesn’t matter. Clint was thinking of something else to do when he heard a soft snore. Bucky had passed out again. He must have narcolepsy or something because he slept _a lot_ and it appeared at times almost involuntary. Clint shrugged and decided to grab as many of the papers on the desk as possible to see if the Russian-not-Russian assassin knew Russian.

Bucky woke up to a mess. Spread out over the table and floors were piles and piles of papers. Clint was folding blank papers into cranes. There were about fifty cranes. Bucky stretched his neck, yawned and adjusted his position on the couch.

“I brought you reading materials.” Clint said smoothing out the edges of the fold.

Bucky cracked his neck one more time and reached for a page. “Why?”

“Aren’t you curious why you’re here?”

“Irrelevant. Survival is priority.” Bucky said bringing the page closer. Russian. _The Asset has taken to returning to_ REDACTED _as a way to override previous programming._ The paper crumpled in his grip.

Clint whistled. It was wheezily. “What’s it say?”

Bucky made the universal sign for give me. “I’ll tell you once I have a full idea.”

Clint shrugged. “Alright.” He handed over a pile. “These ones have pictures so I’m keeping them.”

Bucky ignored him his eyes devouring page after page. _The Asset’s reset codes have been replaced to_ REDACTED. _Now The Asset will have different settings for training and will have an inability to kill handlers._ What the fuck?

Clint was looking at the pictures of crime scenes. They were absolute massacre’s. Head’s turned to impossible angles, blood seeming to seep from the image of a woman with a slit throat. Then…Clint squinted. There was a a man who looked…naw this photo was old at least forty years…He had s bullet wound in his cheek but… Clint crawled over the table and put the photo next to Bucky’s face. His eyes met Bucky’s. Cold gray eyes stared at him and there was a feral fear there.

Clint swallowed and sat down on the coffee table.

“We were sent to kill the dude that lived here and leave.” Clint said.

“I was to kill everyone on the mountain and burn the building to the ground.”

Clint nodded. “So you were here to make sure we didn't find information… or…”

Bucky pinched the bridge of his nose. “I think we were under the same authority.”

Clint slumped over and put an elbow on his knee so he could cup his chin. “How could we be under the same authority if I was hired by the most Texas man I’ve ever met and you’re Russian?”

Bucky set his arm on the rest and his right leg bounced in a subconscious jitter. He seemed to come to a conclusion his leg stilling and the scared creases around his eyes hardening.“Let me get through this and see what I can find. Are there any note books?”

Clint had to jerk himself out of the other man’s eyes. “Yeah.” He said standing up. “Just give me a moment.”

He came back with a couple of legal pads and pens then he set them in easy reach. He scratched his chin.

“You any good with computers?”

It took a complete week for Bucky to go through all the information. None of it quite made sense and most of it was redacted. He still got a good sense of what he was. A military weapon. That seemed to be the overall essence. He was a programmed superhuman that was a military weapon. The logo that was on some of the papers was vaguely familiar and when he showed Clint, he just giggled and said “Cool, octopus dude.”

He wanted to get to the computer but the papers seemed several decades old and went pretty into detail on the missions he’d been on and how to “fix” his glitches. Most of the glitches or programming had been redacted making it impossible to find who he was before “The Asset.” Bucky was coming to some very horrifying conclusions. The first might be that he, _liked_ Clint. Like actually enjoyed his company which in recent memory felt impossible. Had to have been impossible. And yet… Less than a day after Clint brought out a pin board and put all the photos up in chronological order he wandered into the bedroom and returned four hours later with a crutch.

Bucky had stared at it.

Clint held it up with slightly bloody fingers and a wide grin. “So you can walk and we can stop having awkward conversations about bowel movements.”

He looked so proud and had a goofy crooked smile eating up his entire face and Bucky felt his heart for just a moment skip a beat. He thought at first that it might have been his body healing from a bone fragment in his chest cavity but then Clint started to look crest fallen at his non-response and there was another sharp jab. Oh no. It’s emotion. Well, more than that it’s non-aggressive emotion. Bucky didn’t have anything to tell him how to handle this so he glared.

Clint was looking full kicked puppy when Bucky finally spoke. “Uh,” his voice cracked and he coughed. “Thanks.”

Ears perked and tail wagging Clint walked over and handed it to him. “No problem!”

Bucky grasped it and his fingers lingered over the heat of Clint’s. There it was. That missed beat. Oh lord. Ten days ago Bucky had been blown to fucking smithereens by this guy. He shouldn’t be… Clint pulled back. “I’m gonna put on _Jurassic Park_ if that’s okay?”

 _Endearing._ “Yes.” Bucky said curtly turning back to the detailed account about how he killed the entirety of a Serbian politicians family. The sick turning in his gut didn’t stop him from admiring Clint’s pert ass as he walked away.

Bucky tried to force back the memories but Clint’s floppy hair was touching his cheek as he turned on the computer. Clint had wanted him to go on much earlier but Bucky had been blowing it off. He didn’t know how much of his training had regressed due to the severe concussion and weeks off the ice and away from handlers. Either this went really well or really…

Bucky clicked something on the preload screen to access the entire mainframe of the computer and scrolled through the pages of code until he found the password. He restarted and typed it in and boom they were on the desktop. It appeared his hacking skills were still intact.

“Damn,” Clint breathed. His breath was rancid. Bucky shoved him away with his right foot.

“Go brush your teeth.”

“When was the last time you brushed your teeth?”

Bucky grumbled hunching his shoulders.

“Let’s go brush our teeth,” Clint whined wheeling Bucky out on the office chair.

One teeth brushing over, Clint was much more distracting now that his breath was minty fresh and his face right there. Bucky shook it off and clicked through the computer. There were more files. He hit print all and continued to go through more including the internet history which had a lot of underage porn sites. Bucky stiffened.

“What?” Clint asked.

“This was not a good man.” Was all Bucky gave him and left the internet browser. It wasn’t like they could access it now. He finally went through the video files starting with the first in chronological order labeled, Code word test #765.  
“Videos?” Clint said curious. “If it’s baby you I’m gonna squeal like a sixteen year old at a concert.”

Bucky hesitated to click on it. He still hadn’t given Clint everything. “I think it might contain code words that trigger certain actions.”

“On the computer.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “No. My code words.”

“Oh.” Clint’s hand tightened on the desk chair and he set his chin on top of Bucky’s head. He was very tactile when he was certain his life wasn’t in danger. “Are you like a dangerous cyborg that’s been rigged with kill commands?”

“Kind of.”

“I guessed but it’s weird to have confirmation that the government did this.”  
“Well, a small sector in the US government with the same people in different other country governments.”

Clint hummed. He was pressing down on Bucky's head and his chin pretty sharp. When he’s close he can usually hear most of what Bucky says no matter what tone.

“So you’re afraid old code words will trigger kill commands.” Clint said.

Bucky didn’t answer. He didn’t have to. Clint pulled at the chair.

“I’m going to go through some of the older ones to find what I need to say to get you to stand down.” Clint said.

“What,” Bucky snarled stamping a foot down.

Clint spun the chair to face him and crouched down so they were eye level. He had really nice lips. He also wanted to learn how to control Bucky’s body.

“Do you want to kill me?” Clint asked out right. “Is that still part of your goal?”

Bucky’s shoulders raised to his ears. “No.”

“Then if we are going to learn this…I need to be certain you can’t. You can nearly walk now and you don’t wheeze when breathing. I’m tough but…”

“Cyborg.”

“Super healing cyborg.” Clint parroted nodding.

Bucky was going to have to trust Clint not to use this as a power gain. He looked up at him. Clint had inherently trusted Bucky with so much with out thinking twice for something as insubstantial as company. Bucky could take the bullet.

“Okay,” Bucky said relaxing into the chair.

Clint smiled soft and easy. “Thanks, bud.” He helped Bucky into the master bedroom and laid him down on the bed. Bucky stared at the ceiling while Clint sat at the foot of the bed for a moment. He felt like he’d spent most of his time in this godforsaken cabin looking at the ceiling. Clint placed a gentle hand on his ankle.

“Get some rest. I’ll be the same when I come get you.” Clint got up and closed the door leaving him in the unknown. Bucky threw an arm over his eyes wishing for sleep to take over before he could second guess himself and hobble to the room and rip out the computer.

Clint made it about two minutes into the first video before he had to run to the bathroom to vomit. He hugged his porcelain angel and questioned where his hardcore assassin stomach went. Two weeks ago he’d murdered a man in cold blood. Now he’s living with a man who he just watch gut two men then headed for the camera guy. He knows that mans smell. He knows that he has a New York accent when he’s not thinking and speaking which is a rare occurrence. He knows the shape and width of almost his entire body and he knows how good his aim is when Clint farts loudly just to annoy him. They were two different people. Clint leaned back wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and slowly turned on work mode, he had admittedly turned it off right around when he’d lost his hearing.

Three deep breaths and he was ready. He rinsed his mouth and returned to the computer. He put the speaker next to his ear and watched again. Trying to catch what the man was saying. There were screams then a loud piercing cry of _Kotenok, visker, Kogot’_. Bucky stopped his rampage and went at ease. Damn. That fast. He was covered in blood. The man he’d been holding crawling away clutching his leg. Bucky didn't move. Clint closed his eyes and replayed that moment repeating with the dimmed audio until he had it all down. Clint swallowed. He opened the next video. Bucky was strapped to a chair and they were asking him inaudible questions. He must have reacted poorly because they tortured him. They questioned him. He answered. They electrocuted him. Clint watched it on repeat watching as Bucky went from confused to lost to dead. He answered correctly. They let him out of the chair. He rolled his shoulders and rounded toward one of the scientist. The scientist snapped something and his body postured to at ease. There. Clint replayed the video to see if it was a different set of words. Bucky’s screams rang in his ears as he found the correct edge of audio.

Bucky wakes up to Clint curling into bed with him. Clint cuddled close his head laying on Bucky's chest and his knees knocking against Bucky’s right leg. He stayed there still his breathing slow and methodical. Bucky placed a hand on his head surprised by how coarse his hair was. Then again he’d been using the same shitty bar of soap Bucky had. Still Bucky’s fingers combed through the locks taking in his smoky sour masculine sent. The way his body curved so nicely against Bucky’s. A serenity over took Bucky and his muscles unwound in a way he wasn’t sure they’d done in years. He could fall in love with this feeling.

“You need to watch them.” Clint murmured his voice a crack against the silence. It rattled Bucky and he felt himself tense again. The last thought he had being shoved faster than expected.

“I already knew this.” Bucky said making sure to lift his head so he was close to Clint’s ear.

“Not,” Clint seemed to be choking on words his jaw rubbing roughly against the fabric of Bucky’s shirt. His fist clenched the sheets of the bed. “I---”

Bucky waited patiently he could feel Clint struggling. He pulled him in closer and kept the soothing rhythm of his fingers against Clint’s scalp.

“You’re good with electronics and computers and I think we might have to reprogram you.” Clint finally spat out.

Bucky sat straight up and Clint fell into his lap. “What?”

“We’ve been sitting here too long and I don’t know how quickly you’re terrorist group will find you but they _have_ to be looking.” Clint said throwing an arm over his eyes.

Bucky picked up his arm and looked down so Clint could see his lips. “How do you know this?”

Clint bit his lip. “How old are you?”

Bucky frowned. He looked at Clint who was only a little over twenty. He felt older than that. “Thirty? I don’t know.”

“I think I have an answer.” Clint said pushing himself up. He crawled out of bed and Bucky ached for that moment of peace but grabbed his crutch and hobbled after him.

Three minutes later Bucky knew exactly what Clint was talking about. It was him coming out of coffin filled with frost but the date on the bottom of the blurry footage was 1963. Clint had his arms crossed beside him. He wasn’t looking at the screen.

“That was three days before Kennedy was assassinated.”

Bucky swiveled around and pointed a thumb at himself. “Don’t you go talking like that, I would never killed an American president.” 

Clint jerked back as if slapped. “That was sooo New York I don’t know how to handle it. Go back to accentless it was less jarring.”

Bucky rolled his eyes.

“What year is it?” Bucky asked now curious. He knew it couldn’t be the year on the film given how uncomfortable Clint looked.

Clint clicked his teeth and walked out then swiftly back in. “Well, tomorrow it’ll be 2000. Good too because I think we both need some heavy New Year’s Eve drinking after this rabbit hole.”

“Jesus tap dancing Christ,” Bucky said. He’d pick that up from Clint. “This is nearly forty years ago.”

“Yep.” Clint popped his ‘p’.

If he’d been a weapon for possibly over forty years there was no way they’d let him go. There’s no way they’d let Clint go.

“They’ll kill you.” Bucky whispered.

“The next one is in sixty-five and the one after that seventy-two.” Clint said not hearing Bucky.

Bucky sat back in the chair looking at the total of about twenty video clips. He briefly scanned his memory from the documents and remembered something about a reconfiguration chair. There’s no way that they can build it. _Clint would die._ He’d have to build it or at least try.

“I was thinking that I’d leave and do some investigating in my country and then come find you. I think we could, together at least, possibly escape the people who wiped you. I just don’t think I can here. I don’t know when they are coming and I don’t know how many people they’ll bring. Most likely, from what I’ve see, a lot more than I can handle.” Clint was rambling. Bucky was endeared by the idea that Clint planned to come back for him but that meant…

If Clint was left alive they would know. They’d send him after him. Bucky swallowed. He swiveled around and caught Clint’s attention.

“Can you bring me the notebook? I have an idea.”

Clint’s brows were still furrowed with worry but he nodded looking slightly relieved. Bucky sighed. He started the next video cataloguing all the details about the chair they had him strapped to. A shiver went down his spine and his head pounded remembering the pain and hours strapped to that monstrosity. He watched on.

Clint watched Bucky’s hunched form as he took note after note after note about every video. He’d also flipped through the piles of papers until he found a stack of which that had schematics on them that Clint now recognized as the torture chair. Clint wasn’t going to like this. He bounced a ball off the floor then the file cabinet then into his hands. He was kind of bored but…even dimmed and unrecognizable Clint knew that Bucky’s and so many more cries of pain echoed around the room. Clint put his head in his hands. He didn’t want to see this. Bucky was like a chill dude. Kinda gay but that’s alright Clint was too. There was just too much agony and death in his past and Clint didn’t want that hanging across the man’s shoulders. He was clearly not at fault for what happened to him but… Clint moved from army to sniper to private mercenary and while he had blood on his hands he could never bring himself to the cruelty he’d seen. He didn’t even believe snuff films actually existed until about four hours ago. Clint glanced up to check his progress when he sees the date 1997 on the screen. Second to last video. Clint sprung up to his feet.

Bucky was taking notes the neutral frown across his face then like magic his eyes glaze over and he stood up not even wincing as his leg holds his full weight. Clint froze. Bucky turned his eyes finding Clint's. He started forward so fast Clint barely dodged his reach in time.

The words, the words, the words, Clint’s brain scrambled as he bolted out of the room he can hear Bucky pounding behind as though his leg isn’t broken and he didn’t have a fifty pound weight strapped to his chest otherwise known as his arm.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck… Bucky caught Clint’s shirt and yanked him down then swiftly turned him over and straddled him. Clint struggled under him his brain shorting out. Then a fist slammed into his face and he felt the crunch of his nose. The words also slammed into him along with a sharp blast of pain.

“ _Kotenok, visker, Kogot!”_ Clint tried to scream. It probably sounded like a garbled mess. Clint see’s Bucky’s arm raised for a second hit and braced himself for death.

It never came. Clint opened an eye and saw Bucky frozen with his arm raised. He looked like he’s about to cry.

“I--- I’m sorry.” Bucky said deflating. He sat back on his heels and stared sightlessly out at nothing.

Clint breathed through his mouth his brain fogged from pain and adrenaline. The acrid taste of iron coated the back of his throat. He felt awful. He blinked several times and pushed himself up onto his elbows. Only to feel his blood gush from his nose.

“I’m sorry, I knew they were short. I should have paid attention,” Clint said.

Bucky shook his head and stood up. He immediately collapsed on his left leg and let out a loud curse. Clint stood up too. He doesn’t bother with his nose he just goes into the computer room shut off the computer and grabbed Bucky’s crutch. He shuffled back and knelt next to Bucky. He lifted up his pant leg and found that he’d shattered the ski he’d been using to keep the bone straight. Clint gently untied it pulling away pieces of Bucky’s flesh and ski.

Blood stained fingers wrapped around his wrist. Clint finally found Bucky’s gaze worried gaze.

“It’s okay. You need to reset your nose.”

Clint fell shakily onto his ass then laid down onto his back next to Bucky. “I need a drink.” Was all he had in him in answer.

Bucky ended up sitting on the sink with Clint between his knees. Clint was swaying a bit having decided to drink quite a bit while cleaning out Bucky’s leg. He’d been taking swigs of vodka between pouring it over the open wounds and his tweezers as he pulled out nearly microscopic pieces of plastic from his thigh. Now he was between Bucky’s knees eyes slightly glazed and breath sour from alcohol. He’d lifted the lid on the toilet. Bucky raised an eyebrow placing his hands back on Clint’s face readying himself for the reset.

“The moment,” Clint slurred. “My nose makes a noise I’m gonna vomit.”

Bucky shrugged then without a warning snapped Clint's nose back in place. He was not wrong. He’d literally dropped to his knees dunked his head into the toilet and vomited with his whole body.

Bucky put a hand awkwardly on his back then slid off the counter. He leaned backwards to grab a paper cup and filled it with water. When the vomiting had stopped Clint was slumped against the toilet. A lazy finger rose then fell against handle. Bucky handed him the water. Clint rinsed out his mouth and handed the cup back. Bucky refilled it and handed it back.

Clint took a sip then poured the rest on his face and some of the blood from his face spilled on to the toilet lid.

Bucky sighed. He bent over Clint to grab the wash cloth from the shower and ran it under the faucet adding some hand soap. He grabbed another paper cup and filled it with water and grabbed ibuprofen from the medicine cabinet. Holding it all carefully in one hand he shifted so he was back on the sink. He gestured for Clint. Clint’s eyes were closed, snot and blood were forming disgusting lines across the porcelain. Bucky nudged Clint with his food. Clint’s eyelashes fluttered open. They were nice eyelashes.

Clint pushed himself up slowly and with great difficulty, Bucky waited patiently. Guilt boiled in his belly and the acid of it burned against his throat. Those moments right before he’d gone to hit him again where he had a clear method of incapacitating and snuffing out the enemy were hot on his tongue and ice down his spine.

Clint had apologized. _To him_. Warm hands gripped his thighs. Bucky opened his eyes let out a measured breath through his nose and handed Clint the meds and water. Clint washed them down quickly then closed his eyes leaning closer. Anticipating. Bucky wiped gently under his nose. His fingers flexed but his eyes remained closed. Trusting.

He’d started fixing Bucky’s leg instead of cleaning himself up. His shirt was brown with dried blood and it was caked along the bottom of his face. Bucky continued cleaning. Clint had to be the dumbest man alive. Or the kindest… Bucky remembered the body from the beginning. Maybe not so kind. Just dumb. Bucky continued to clean his face. There’s no way a man this dumb should be left to his own devices, Bucky thought. He’d need company. Smart company. Who didn’t sleep next to a literal killing machine and wouldn't begin to give it information out of boredom. Company like Bucky. His hand stilled. Clint’s eyes fluttered open.

Bucky swiped the rag over his cheek then set it down against the counter. “We’ll start working on the machine tomorrow.” He said.

Clint gave him a shakey smile. “As long as you wait until my hangover’s gone.”

Bucky smiled back. “Of course.”

Clint was sitting in front of Bucky who sat stone faced with a colander on his head. Clint looked at all the complicated wires connected to bits of Bucky’s skull and the computer and the live end of a car jumper that was sitting in his hand.

“I don’t---” Clint started.

“It’s almost February.” Bucky said.

The winter would only last so long.

“The SimonSays?”

Bucky’s eyes rolled heavenward. “That was your idea.”

“Yeah because the likely hood of you hearing a children's toy on mission is less likely than an English phrase.”

“Clint.”

“I just…This is torture. It’s not really my thing.”

“Clint.”

“I mean I was able to incapacitate you once I think I could do it again.”

“ _Clint.”_ Bucky barked. Clint shut up.

Bucky leaned forward in the chair looking both scary and like that nerdy guy from _The Ghostbusters_. It was a conflicting look.

“Connect the cord. Play the game. Disconnect.” He snarled.

Clint looked up into his solid rock colored eyes despairingly. “I don’t want to hurt you, man.”

Bucky took Clint’s chin in his rough grasp. “The sentiment is the same here.” He had a point but Clint could take a hit. Bucky shook his chin and Clint’s eyes met his once again. “Please. For your sake and mine.”

Clint nodded steeling his spine pulling the military training back into his breathing. Bucky leaned back. They made eye contact. Clint clipped the jumper, Bucky tensed from shock. Clint played the SimonSays. Blue, Blue, Green, Blue. He unclipped the jumper. Bucky’s body collapsed. Clint waited a few moments.

Bucky leaned over and vomited on the floor. Clint briefly wondered if they fed him after these sessions instead of before.

“Okay.”

“Code words.”

Clint hesitated.

Bucky spat and stood cracking his neck. “Now, Clint.”

“ _Medved’, Volk, Olen’”_ Clint said.

Bucky’s spine straightened his shoulders tensed like a cat on the prowl. Clint’s hands shook as he pressed the buttons on the SimonSays.

Nothing.

Bucky had turned to him after hearing the noise. Then attacked.

“ _Kotenok, visker, Kogot!”_ Clint shouted dropping to the floor. Bucky straightened hands behind his back. Clint unwound.

Bucky sighed deeply and sat back in the chair turning to the computer and typing in some more…stuff. He sat the colander on his head.

“Again.” He demanded.

Clint sighed. Hands shaking he grabbed the jumper cable.

Bucky blinked and he hand his hands grasped around Clint’s neck. Oh, no. He’d never gotten this far before. Clint had become quick and swift with the deactivating code. It had been a rough couple of weeks. Clint shifted between crawling into bed with him and just not talking when they weren’t in the computer room. Bucky was hurt. Didn’t he realize…the pain didn’t matter. He couldn’t let someone as stupid as Clint go into a world with his as a weapon unprotected. Bucky refused to admit that he’d miss the peace that Clint’s touch gave him.

Bucky swallowed and looked away. He started to back up his hands already dropped to Clint’s shoulders but Clint pulled him into a kiss. Oh. Clint’s tongue licked against his bottom lip. _Oh._

“It worked!” Clint gasped. Bucky pulled him closer. That was nice and all but the kissing was good too.

“I tried to choke you.” Bucky said against Clint’s neck. Clint had his hands up Bucky’s shirt.

“I’ve tried kinkier things.” Clint said pulling off Bucky’s shirt only to get it caught on his metal arm.

“Clint---”

“It won’t even bruise.” Clint said. “You never got that far.”

That was good enough for Bucky. He ripped off the shirt and came back to Clint. He didn't even realize they’d been on the floor. He mouthed along Clint’s collar bone tugging at his shirt. Clint obliged taking it off. They shifted against each other.

“Weeks.” Clint said grinding into him.

Bucky nodded. He’d missed Clint. He couldn’t think of much else because Clint had licked his hand and sent it down between them. He had calluses from archery and they felt perfect wrapped around Bucky’s cock. Bucky groaned and his hips thrust into the heat. He thrust his thigh between Clint’s legs and allowed the other man to writhe against it as he quickly pulled Bucky to completion. Bucky bit gently into Clint’s shoulder as he climaxed. Clint gasped and his body tensed as he too came.

Bucky collapsed on top of Clint breathing heavily. Clint pulled his hands from Bucky’s sweats and slapped a too wet hand onto Bucky’s back. They were disgusting.

“I think I might love you.” Clint said his voice light and dazed as though he forgot that he was the only one who couldn’t hear. Bucky tensed then relaxed. Good. Seemed like feelings were just as intense on the other side.

Bucky wrote on Clint’s chest with a finger. “Me too.”

Clint was sexed out. He didn’t know that a one armed man and a deaf guy could have so much vigorous sex but here he was. What day was it? What was his name? God. Bucky was a cuddler. He was currently snuggled on Clint’s chest snoring with a bit of drool. He also tended to sleep after topping. That was a surprise. Clint didn’t mind. God. Clint had seen God while having sex with Bucky. He didn’t even know the mans last name. Clint debated getting up to shower he was gross, wet, sticky and covered in cum. He stayed in his filth pile. The afterglow from Bucky-related-orgasms were phenomenal. Clint was on cloud nine. Nothing could bring him down.

“You have to leave soon,” Bucky murmured. Clint hadn’t even noticed he’d awaken. Bucky wiped drool off his face and pulled himself up on an elbow. “Spring is coming.”

Good feelings gone. He was crashing. “How?” Clint asked eloquently. His brain had yet to register words so he wasn’t crashing hard enough it seemed.

“I think there’s a snowmobile in the shed.”

That was true. “I burnt the shed down.”

Bucky froze.

“We need to take a shower.”

“Together?”

Bucky pushed himself off the bed and smirked. “Maybe later.”

“You tease.” Clint flirted back.

The snowmobile was fine. “We should have left together.” Clint said staring at the smoke scarred fully functioning snowmobile.

“Why did you burn down the shed?” Bucky asked ignoring Clint’s question.

“I felt bad about leaving the body in the snow so a few days later when the weather wasn’t so bad I’d dragged him here for a proper funeral.”

“There are still bits of him left over.” Bucky said looking at the partially burned, mostly decomposed corpse.

“I didn't say it was a good one.” Clint snapped.

Their gazes returned to the snowmobile. “I should have noticed.” Clint said breaking the tension. “There was so much time. We could have left. We could have run.”

“We couldn’t have. The weather was impossible until a week ago and I had a broken leg.” Bucky responded calmly.

“We could leave together?”

Bucky shook his head. He searched the shed probably looking for an extra tank of gas. “We’d be running for the rest of our lives.”

Clint shrugged. “That’s not so different from now.”

Bucky swerved to look at him. “Now is a miracle of coincidences. Tomorrow will be hell.”

Clint could feel his face falling and his eyes tearing up. He looked at the hole strewn ceiling of the shed. “I know.” He said. He was mortified. He’d been able to pull it together for so long. These last three months had been hell. He’d seen horrible things done to someone kind to make them a monster. He’d fallen in love with that monster and now he had to leave him to get dragged back to hell.

Bucky wrapped him in a one armed hug. Clint clung to him. He noticed that there was a slight shake in Bucky’s shoulders and hand. Clint strengthened his hold. He’d keep it together. He had to.

“I’ll find you again,” Clint said into Bucky’s shoulder. “Even if it costs me my hearing.”

Bucky’s shoulders shook with silent laughter. Clint buried his face into Bucky’s shoulder and allowed himself a smile.

Clint was packed and ready to go. Bucky stood outside the cabin looking at him. His hair was long touching his ears and extremely unkempt. He had broad shoulders and a narrow waist his biceps strong from years of archery. His spine stood straight and in the night under darkness he’d been curled and vulnerable and stupid. He was incredibly stupid. Telling Bucky all these things about himself. Bucky felt a rock clog his throat. He’d miss his stupidity.

Clint turned towards him still sitting on the snowmobile. He was clearly reluctant.

“Would you give daddy a kiss?” Clint said with a false smile. _Ferris Bueler’s Day Off._ Clint had been appalled by Bucky’s lack of movie trivia and had thus stuffed all fifty five VHS down his gullet whenever possible.

Bucky rolled his eyes and strolled up. Clint grasped him by his jacket and pulled him in. Bucky let himself be dragged in and connected their lips. It was draining and hard and Clint put all of himself into it and Bucky took it. He’d be back. He promised. Bucky just…hoped. Clint was the one to stop it. He smiled one more time, crookedly then pulled down his goggles. Bucky stepped back. The snowmobile roared to life. Bucky watched as Clint’s back retreated into the distance. He wondered how long it would be until they saw each other again. If it ever happened. It wasn’t that Clint would go back on his deal. It was that Bucky would kill him before Clint was able to stop him. Bucky closed his eyes and waited for fate to run it’s course.


	3. 2003-2010

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They meet, they break up, and break bones and hearts.

2003

The National Museums were packed that day and Clint could tell the crowds of bustling Americans and the inability to keep tabs on all exits was making Natasha antsy.

“We should leave,” she said looking with disgust at a toddler waddling by, hand clutched by a haggard dad.

“At least see the Captain America exhibit.” Clint said flipping the map around as if that would make sense of it all.

“No.”

Clint and her exchanged a look. They’d had an instant connection when they met. Granted Natasha had stabbed his shin and he’d broken her nose before getting her to slow down enough for them to have a conversation. There was a bond there. Clint figured it had something to do with his sad affinity for quiet, broken, and violent. He wanted her to have a full American experience. They had both just recently joined Shield and it was obvious that the frontline work they were currently doing wouldn’t last long. When that happened he doubted they’d be able to actually go out and have days exploring the area they were inevitably going to live in.

“Okay,” Natasha said, Clint not having to say anything at all. She grabbed the map flipped it and marched steadily in a direction. Clint followed her. It was the polite thing to do. Natasha liked him too. He thought. There was no real confirmation but given that she hadn’t tried to kill him since the first time he’d take it. Her hair was getting long. He wondered how long she’d let it get. It was one of her things. She liked the control she had over it.

Clint could understand. Control was hard to find in these times and taking it where ever it came was a necessity.

Natasha stopped abruptly and Clint stopped just behind her looking around. It seemed they had made it. There was a nice large cardboard cutout of Captain America with his faithful team of Howling Commandos---

“Holy fuck,” Clint whispered. He squinted at the sepiatoned figure smiling just behind the captain’s shoulder. It couldn’t.

“You know them?”

It was. That was Bucky.

Clint winced. “Unfortunately. Yes.” He could not stop staring at the smiling happy snap shot of Bucky. His hair was so short. It was an odd thing to get caught on but Clint couldn’t help it. He wondered if it was less greasy that way.

“Come on.” Natasha barked. “I want to be out of here in the next hour.”

Clint caught the stony expression of someone desperately trying not to crawl out of their skin. Clint nodded. “Okay, I have a lot more reading to do anyway.”

2006

“This is the Winter Soldier,” Fury informed them. Clint was playing a rough game of dots with Natasha. Given the slight uptick of her mouth he was about to get slaughtered.

“He is the most deadly assassin known in the world and that’s why it’s important for you to pay attention,” Fury snarled slapping his hand against the table. Clint and Natasha met gazes then rolled their eyes. Half the meetings with just the three of them started off the same way. _Killer, deadly, don’t laugh Barton,_ blah blah blah.

Clint did give Fury the honor of looking at the nice slide show he’d set up. Then he gave Natasha the honor of watching him tense up and still appear as if everything was normal. The Winter Soldier. Bucky. Well, this keeps getting worse and worse. Clint had a sinking feeling that if he was on a cross mission with him that he was probably the target and he blinked at the image that who ever commanded control over Bucky had rooted itself in Shield.

Natasha raised an eyebrow. Clint went back to their game of dots. The meeting went on as usual.

Natasha pulled him aside as soon as the meeting was over. Clint had barely heard their mission. Make sure some politician was alive, avoid The Winter Soldier. Simple. Except not. Clint grabbed her hand and pulled her into a supply closet he quickly disabled any and all bugs he could find.

“What?” She signed.

“Moan like you’re having the greatest sex of your life.” Clint signed back.

Natasha glared at him but did as he asked.

“This mission isn’t about saving a politician, it’s about letting the Winter Soldier kill me in action.” Clint whispered.

Natasha’s moan hiccuped. Clint gestured for her to continue and gently kicked the door to keep up the façade.

“I met him a while back and we had an affair and now whatever organization he’s a part of knows I’m alive and wants me dead.”

Natasha moaned an _oh, yeah._

“I also think you know him too.”

That stopped her dead. She iced over. Unreadable. It was enough of an answer. They were quiet for only a moment but they had to orgasm at some point and the both groaned and pounded the walls before faking a climax.

Natasha slapped his cheeks and messed up his hair she also made sure to both kiss his neck and gently wipe it off with a smear. Clint gently slapped her cheeks and messed up her hair. She shoved him against the door and he giggled.

That was the last time the discussed the facts of the mission.

Clint leaned against the door of the politician’s hotel room. It had no windows and would require shooting through multiple rooms to hit. Was an assassin’s nightmare but a bodyguard’s dream. Natasha was military straight in her pantsuit.

“I feel like James Bond,” Clint said gesturing to his own suit.

“You look more like Austin Powers.” Natasha replied.

Clint gaped affronted. “I am a handsome man in a perfectly fitted suit that I’m going to probably ruin.”

“Your bow already wrinkled it.”

“Practicalities.”

Natasha’s lips twitched. Her own suit had spandex around the waist so she could properly move in it but it ruined her lines.

Clint smiled for her and looked out the window down the hall. In the inky black of the In the inky black of the night he saw a familiar glint.   
“Down,” Clint said falling back on his heel and aiming his bow. He calculated the angle and let the arrow fly. A bullet crossed passed his cheek.

“He’s good.” Natasha said from her position on the floor.

“I’m pretty sure he assassinated Kennedy.” Clint grumbled.

There was a small explosion on the other roof. Natasha raised an eyebrow.

Clint shrugged. “R&D loves me.”

They crawled across the floor to get to that mercy gap between the window looking into the hallway and the rooms. Natasha reached it first pulling out her gun. Clint loaded a sticky arrow and pulled out the keychain SimonSays. He held it in his string hand and breathed. The glass shattered down the hallway. Natasha spun around fired a shot then got clipped in the shoulder. Clint glanced around the corner saw his trajectory then closed his eyes and sent the sticky arrow blindly around the corner. The sound of foot steps faltered under the _sploosh_ of foam. Clint rounded his corner ran up while The Winter Soldier was still confused and played the SimonSays. Blue Blue Green Blue.

He froze. Clint saw Natasha stand and position her gun out the corner of his eye. He held up a hand holding off her attack. The soldier’s eyes blinked and a hand went unconsciously to his head. Bucky’s gaze swept the room and landed on Clint. Clint held his breath. Then was swept up in a kiss. Clint clung to Bucky’s back. Relishing in the warmth of him and the familiar weight of him. He was surprised when Bucky was able to lift him and press him against the wall pinning him there. Clint made a questioning noise his lips never leaving Bucky’s.

Bucky sent a chilled hand up Clint’s back.

Clint broke away. “Robot arm?” He gasped. Bucky didn’t answer latching onto his neck. Wow. That was nice. Then Bucky broke off stopping what was going to be an amazing hickey on his chest. Clint frowned. Not so nice.

“How long?” He asked.

Clint pulled his hands up and over his shoulders and then cupped Bucky’s face. “Six years, three months, seven days.”

Bucky looked heart broken. Clint rubbed his thumb over Bucky’s lip.

“Hey, we found each other.”

Bucky looked away.

Clint let out a hoarse laugh. “You might have been trying to kill me but that’s like our norm.”

Bucky leaned his head against Clint’s shoulder. The moment was gone. Clint’s legs slid down to the ground and he put a hand to Bucky’s head. It was in that moment that he saw Natasha.

She was the most surprised Clint had ever seen her. White face clutching her arm and wide eyed.

Clint grimaced.

“Bumfuck, Russia,” she mouthed. Clint nodded.

She nodded too. Then looked up and around.

“We don’t have long,” she said aloud. Bucky like water over a pond pulled out a gun and aimed it at her pushing Clint behind him. Clint inched out from behind him and then in front of the gun.

“This is my partner---” Clint started.

“Natalia.” She finished.

Bucky aimed the gun down after Clint had pulled in front of it. He frowned. “Are you part of the organization?”

Natasha tilted her head. “We worked in interwoven circles…just not the same one.”

Bucky nodded and holstered his gun. Clint ripped part of Natasha’s shirt off to wrap her arm.

“Think you could give me an hour?” Clint said tying off the shirt.

Natasha’s eye twitched. “Twenty minutes.”

Clint smiled. He grabbed Bucky’s hand and dragged him through the first hotel room he could find. Natasha sighed and started speaking whatever they speak in Hungary to calm down angry guests. Their charge came out and Natasha sighed. Clint ignored her, and then Clint was pressed against the wall again. Twenty minutes.

Bucky could hold Clint forever. He’d missed the comfortable ease of company he brought. Everything was coated in sepia and melting away every second he was with him. Clint was lying limbless on top of him and they just listened to each other breathe. Bucky was surprised by how short and soft Clint usually kept his hair. Clint sighed. His body tensed then he pushed himself up.

“Natasha, is telling me that your back up is on it’s way.” Clint said. He was pulling off his clothes.

“Uh…” Bucky said pushing himself onto his elbows.

Clint pulled on a robe he found in the closet and made sure to keep his boots and boxers.

Bucky’s mind raced. “I needed to kill you.”

“I know.” Clint grimaced. “This was a two birds one stone mission. Too bad the stone’s more like an angry teddy bear.”

“What was your plan?” Bucky asked. He was sitting up on the bed putting himself back into his armor and clothes.

Clint bit his lip looked at his rumbled clothes. He gestured Bucky over. Bucky stood and got close. Clint fluttered his eyes and flipped open his knife sheath and grasping it. Bucky snickered and pushed his face away.

“Idiot.”

Clint ignored him and rolled up his robe sleeve holding his arm over the clothes. Bucky grabbed his wrist and stopped him before he could cut himself.

“You could just shoot me.” Bucky said.

Clint glared at him. “I don’t like that.”

“Neither do I.” Bucky said.

“Well also you’re kind of an unstoppable machine so I’d have to shoot you in a way that made it impossible for you to walk,” Clint said jerking his arm out of Bucky’s hand. He sliced his arm and blood dripped on to the clothes.

Bucky gripped Clint’s arm staunching the blood flow. “I don’t think that’ll be enough to fake your death.”

“Really?”

Bucky refrained from rolling his eyes. How this man had managed to avoid Hydra for so long was a miracle. “Give me your gun.”

Clint picked up his quiver and bow mockingly. Bucky did roll his eyes then and pulled out his own gun.   
“Why do you have to be so impractical?”

“There’s no sportsmanship in guns.”

Bucky clenched his fists. Stupid. Why was he so attracted to stupid? Clint pulled his quiver and bow over his head. Bucky grabbed his wrist and moved his fingers to wrap around the gun under his own.

Clint tried to jerk back and Bucky held him close. He shoved the gun at his right shoulder.

“Com’mon, babe.” Bucky said. He could feel the tremble in Clint’s fingers.

“We’re not doing this next time.”

“The longer you wait—”

The bullet blew through his scapula and he could swear his teeth probably cracked from how hard he gritted them.

Clint dropped the gun. Bucky fell to his knees then leaned against the bed.

“Fuck,” Clint reached out to touch him and Bucky held up a hand. He exercised a breathing technique then reached for the gun.

“No,” Clint leaned back shaking his head. “I can’t—”

Bucky grabbed his wrist once more wrapping it around the gun. Clint was too tense.

“Hey,” Bucky said. “A bone for a bone.”  
“That was some cartilage and an eardrum not the entirety of your body.” Clint said his eyes closed.

“You need to shoot through the tibia.” Bucky informed him pulling the gun toward his shin.

Clint’s face broke and Bucky could tell he was trying and failing to pull the emotion out of it. Stupid but empathetic. Too empathetic at the moment. Bucky could carry that.

Bucky inhaled wrapping his around the trigger dislodging Clint’s. He exhaled and pulled. The pain was so bad he blacked out for a moment. Clint was gripping his face when he came to.

“Go.” Bucky ground out. “I’ll live.”

“We are never doing it like this again.” Clint said his voice ragged and harsh.

Bucky’s lips twitched at that. He gestured once more for Clint to move. The man followed suit. An idiot about to do battle in a bathrobe and boxers. Bucky breathed in some more of Clint’s fading scent, his chest letting out small puffs of air before the pain washed consciousness away once more.

Clint had his bow loaded and ready when he walked out. Natasha was already in an all out brawl. Clint shot three arrows through that disarming four guys and was tackled from the side by another henchmen or whatever. Clint shouted an apology to Natasha as he elbowed the man off him and fired three more arrows.

Natasha only responded with, “Fuck Budapest.”

Three days later they were in a Shield medical center and Clint was able to look over his shoulder at Natasha. “Fuck Budapest.” Clint whispered back finally in agreement.

2010

The Asset faded his hand gripping a man’s shirt releasing as Bucky reasserted himself. He blinked he couldn’t recognize him at first. That was a lot of black. Clint smiled his fake lip ring glinting in sunlight.

“You’re certainly different.” Bucky said.

Clint’s kohl lined eyes crinkled at the corners. “Yeah. Incognito.”

Bucky’s hand ran down Clint’s body taking him in. “It’s cute but I prefer blondes.”

Clint’s smile turned slightly melancholy. “I’m technically on vacation, and not supposed to leave the USA.”

They were in the middle of Czechoslovakia.

“How long?”

“Four years, twenty six days.”

Bucky kissed him and Clint escalated it. He must have missed him. Bucky pulled away and Clint pouted. Bucky chuckled and grabbed his hand. “Let’s go find a quiet place to catch up.”

“I have to leave.” Bucky said softly to the air.

“I know.” Clint answered stroking a hand through Bucky’s hair.

Clint couldn’t believe that he was here again. He also couldn’t believe that the little octopus would be on so many Shield papers. Like all the ones he’s not supposed to see. It didn't seem so important though. Bucky was whole and he could leave and there would be no bloodshed when they inevitably had to part. They had done a thorough check of each other’s bodies, earlier and Clint was able to come to the conclusion that Bucky was still what one could call perfect. His hair was still cut like Joan of Ark but that’s not his fault. Clint had missed how heavy Bucky was. He had nearly forgotten how the metal arm and all when laying on top of him could be the best kind of weighted blanket. Bucky had placed his ear against Clint’s chest and hadn’t moved since. He seemed to be in a state of disbelief also.

The heaviness of the statement was not enough to move them. Clint broke the silence.

“The next time we meet will probably be the last time,” Clint said. Bucky’s hands clenched at the bedsheets. Clint put a hand over his. “Your organization is escalating currently because we recently found out gods are real. They’ve seen something with nearly impossible amounts of power and that tends to scare people into action. So either they’ll take me out before I intervene and we run or I die.”

“So next time we see each other…” Bucky started. Clint could feel the shiver run down his back.

“I’ll be dead or we’ll be able to just be.”

Bucky nodded. Clint pulled a hand through his hair. They ended up entwined once again. Slow and sad. Clint didn’t want that. Bucky was more joyous during sex. This sad shit was just…He cried. It was embarrassing. The silence that followed was much more uneasy; their thoughts dark and pessimistic.

“I have to leave.”

“I know.”


	4. 2012-2014

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Guess Captain America has to enter at some point.

2012

“You’re on mandatory indefinite paid leave,” Fury told Clint stone faced behind his desk and eye patch.

“What?” Clint’s hands were shaking and he seemed to have an inability to sleep with out feeling ice thread through his veins but he’s sure denial and ignorance should stop that eventually.

“You were in a compromised position and HR finds that your mentally incapable of handling any assignments.”

  1. Shit. Not psych. Not that Clint trusted the psych department but he knew with absolute certainty that Dr. Aamer was not part of the nazi subgroup of Shield. “You can’t!”



“What reason could you possibly have for not going on psyche leave?”

“Because!”

“Because?”

 _Because I have something to tell you when we aren’t being watched._ Clint signed hiding his movements behind a childish shoulder hunch.

 _I know what you’re talking about. I’ve got it handled._ Fury signed back perfectly.

_Doubt it._

Fury weaved his fingers together and leaned over the desk. “’Because’ isn’t cutting it Barton. You’re dismissed.”

Clint clawed the edges of his chair in frustration. Fine. If Fury or Nat wanted information on the nazi’s they know where to find him. Clint then stood and walked out of the office. He’d been dismissed after all.

2014

Natasha stood next to Steve in Sam’s tiny house her jaw clenched. Clint had to find out through them or he’d never speak to her again.

“We need to call Hawkeye.”

Steve looked over at her. “What?”

“Hawkeye. Now.”

“What about Hydra? What about Bucky?”

Natasha pulled Steve down by his collar. That was the Winter Soldier and they had just very publicly fought him.

“If we don’t find him. He’ll find us and things will get so much worse.”

“Worse than an evil Nazi group?” Sam asked.

Steve pointed at Sam. “He’s got a point.”

“I think Clint knew about Hydra.” Natasha appealed.

“The guy with bows and arrows?”

“I was under the impression that he was…” Steve said looking for kind words.

Natasha held up a hand. “Stupid.” She finished for him. “He is but he also attracts the most deadly people on the planet.”

Sam snickered in disbelief then his face fell. Steve also had the same reaction. Natasha waited for them. Why were so many people stupid? Clint had befriended her, became the deadliest of Loki’s army and had a tendency to find people with high body counts to befriend starting with the Winter Soldier apparently.

Steve crossed his arms. “If he knows about Hydra that’s useful but where are we even going to find him?”

Natasha tilted her head covering her wince. “I know where he is.”

Clint sat in his Bedstuy apartment shooting arrows into the ceiling. Lucky was at his feet barely moving. Wasn’t like to dog could see how bored Clint was. Indefinite had spanned into two years and Clint’s worries about Hydra murdering him died the moment Captain America was found. Little did he know they’d kill his soul by firing him. Spongebob cut off to send out a special announcement.

“We are looking for suspected terrorist—"  
Clint sat up to mute it only to find some very familiar people on TV.

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”

Someone knocked on his door. “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.” Clint said to the door.

“Lucky roof.” Clint ordered. The dog ran up the stairs lazily.

Clint tied his sweatpants and pulled on the sweater next to him. He grabbed his bow and arrows then ran up the stairs after to dog. The door was kicked in shortly after.

Clint picked up the dog on his way up and slung him over his shoulder. “Stay home Clint. It’s better for your health, Clint. Can’t have you triggered in dangerous places, _Clint._ ”

Foot steps and the spray of gas followed him up the stairs.

Clint jumped from his roof to the next roof over landing badly on his knees in order to make sure Lucky wouldn’t be hurt.

“Can’t have you hurting anyone, _Clint_.” Clint muttered placing Lucky down to drag a bomb arrow out. He aimed and sent it through the opening to the roof. “It’s not like you were laid off, _Clint_.”

He picked up the dog and ran again this time through the second apartment to street level. There he dropped Lucky off and pulled up his hood and tried to blend in with the New York crowd. He placed a bomb arrow and his hearing aids outside a random hotel three buildings down from where he exited the house. Lucky was trotting next to him. Clint was going to have to put him in a kennel. He pulled out the archery glove Tony had made for him sliding it onto his hand. He tapped his ring finger to his thumb. The bomb arrow exploded and Clint was effectively hidden.

Natasha would like for the record to know that she had intended to contact Clint. It was an incredibly hard thing to do when wanted but it was still top priority until it wasn’t. The Soldier had found them. Natasha was trying to make sure Captain and Sam lived. That’s where they were currently. It was why when the motorcycle blew past her she knew to tell Sam to grab Cap. Clint was probably so pissed he didn’t care if he hurt Captain America.

“Rodger,” Sam said and swooped in catching him just as Clint slid the motorcycle onto it’s side letting slide away from his body into the Winter Soldier.

“Who is that?” Steve asked.

“Hawkeye.” Natasha answered.

Clint stood up and ran towards the wreckage of his motorcycle. He leaped over the side on top of the Winter Soldier and Nat lost visual. She ran towards him.

“Hawkeye?” She cried.

The Asset faded and red blood sluiced down Bucky’s arm. Clint was crouched over him his hips over Bucky’s chest. Bucky felt a hand around his wrist it was shaking and turning cold by the second.

“No.”

“Found you,” Clint said giving Bucky a faint smile.

“I…” Bucky couldn’t say anything. He let go of the knife leaving it in Clint.

Clint had one hand next Bucky’s head clutching the stupid SimonSays that was still making noises. He gently touched Bucky’s cheek with his hand warm with wet blood. “It’s okay, Steve’s here.”

There was blood dripping from the corner of his mouth. Oh no. No. Doctor. He needed a doctor. Bucky pulled Clint to his chest and sat up. Clint let out several curses about his intestines but Bucky ignored him. He stood carrying Clint bridal style so he didn’t place pressure on the wound. There were people here.

“Doctor,” Bucky said.

Natalia was already at them. She looked furious. “I know one.”

“Okay, let’s go.”

Steve pulled up next to them in a car. “Get in.”

Bucky did as he said. He felt numb sitting in the back with Clint bleeding out. His eyes were fluttering and he didn’t seem to be too aware of anything. He was humming again.

“I didn’t…” Bucky started.

“Yasha,” Natalia said in Russian. “Shut the fuck up.”

Bucky did as ordered. The car was silent all except for Clint’s humming.

“Mahnahmanah.” Clint muttered. Then went silent and still.

The doctor was not where Bucky expected him to be. It was in a small cottage just outside of New York. There were a ridiculous amount of flowers and plants surrounding the place. The doctor was another surprise a graying hunched man that seemed horrified to see them there.

“Am I going to get arrested?” He asked.

“Clint’s dying, Bruce.” Natalia said without preamble. His face hardened and he put on some glasses while leaning back to let them in.

He led them to a table next to a small kitchen. Steve used an arm to clear it off so Bucky could set Clint down. He’d been breathing but unconscious for approximately thirty minutes. It had figuratively felt like a lifetime. Bruce washed his hands and Bucky didn’t move standing over Clint’s body. He’d been trying to kill Clint for fifteen years. He might have finally done it.

People were moving around him but his body felt like stone. Idiot. The idiot had come at him. Bucky could feel several muscle tears and small cuts and bruises healing. He threw a motorcycle at him but he knew better that to come right at him. They’d done this before with no bloodshed. He missed that chilly air and heady sent of tobacco being stitched into every fiber of the shitty hotel room. He’d finally killed the dumbass. The unkillable cockroach.

A hand on his shoulder pulled him out of his reverie. He still couldn’t look away as Bruce pulled the knife out of Clint’s abdomen. The hand gripped harder and dragged him away.

“Care to explain what’s going on?” Steve said. He pulled Bucky over onto a couch so that he and Natalia could stand over him disapprovingly. Bucky looked around them to see a black man in the kitchen helping the doctor. That’s good. Bucky wasn’t much help. His hands were itchy and flaked with dried blood.

“Yasha,” Natalia snapped. “ _запрос ввода данных._ ”

Bucky’s eyes automatically focused on her, his spine straightened and he remembered protocol.

“Ask for a specific inquiry.”

Steve stepped back clearly uncomfortable.

“Relationship with Clint Barton Codename Hawkeye,” Natasha continued.

“Lovers.”

“Date of start of relationship.”

“January 29th, 2000.”

Steve raised his hands up and pulled them through his hair. “Holy shit.” He said.

“List of dates of contact between then and now.”

“July 8th, 2006 and August 3rd, 2010”

“How do you remember him?”

“Reprogramming.”

“He _reprogrammed him!_ ” Steve shouted.

Bucky listened to Natasha’s request under his shout. She was his informant after all.

“How were you reprogrammed?”

“Scientist **Redacted** left his notes and computer open for investigation. I created a reprogramming set up given the materials at hand and Clint entered the code.”

Natasha finally sat down.

Steve was leaning against a wall. Bucky sat straight and awaited his next orders. .He could see into the room behind them. Clint was convulsing. The doctor had taped things to him. Bucky felt water drip onto his combat pants. He waited for orders.

Natasha did not expect that. She’d honestly thought he’d been undercover with orders from Fury and that was why he’d been recognized. The little tryst in Budapest was a thing but she’d been there too. Yasha was…a fantasy. Now it made more sense his sudden change. Yasha had never been one so open with affection. They had to have been together for months. Yasha had to have been the one to come up with the reprogramming. Clint would be reluctant and Clint would be on the 'let's ignore the problem and run’ side. That didn’t explain why Yasha was so invested in him though. Clint attractive in a way, she supposed. Bruce was speaking in low concise tones and there was thumping as Clint’s body jerked and moved. Natasha closed her eyes. He inspired protectiveness at the very least. Natasha covered her face and made a failed attempt to steel her spine. Jesus. This was a nightmare and there was still so much to do.

“Bucky?” Steve asked. He had moved from the wall and was standing in front of Yasha. Natasha stood up.

“Hey, it’s okay Bruce might be a chemicals guy but he’s certainly competent doctor.” Steve said. He’d had a hand on Yasha’s shoulder. Yasha didn’t move.

“He’s waiting for orders, Steve.” Natasha said. “Unfortunately I don’t have his code words anymore.”

“What?” Steve turned around giving Natasha an open view of Bucky’s face. That wasn’t Yasha. He was sitting straight in the correct posture but his hands were gripping his knees so hard the knuckles on his left hand showed white with bone and he was stone faced crying eyes far away.

“Oh, Bucky,” Natasha said unable to keep the pity out of her voice. “I only know the words for information exchange. He’s waiting for the information that he needs so that he can complete the mission.”

Steve sighed sitting down next to Bucky. “There’s no information to give.”

Natasha shook her head. “We have to wait until he breaks out of it or Clint wakes up.”

Steve laid his head on Bucky’s shoulder. “What do we do?”

Natasha watched as Bruce pulled out defibrillator’s. She sat down on Bucky’s other side. “Wait.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't edit this one that thoroughly...


	5. 2014 The End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> But whatever happened to Lucky?

“…the fuck is this, Steve?”   
“He’s out cold and according Bruce stable.”   
“Why didn’t you come to me sooner?”  
“Why didn’t you tell me you were alive after your house collapsed on national television?”  
“You’re bringing that up, now.”  
“Yes, Tony, because believe it or not I’m still mad.”  
“At least I didn’t become a wanted criminal and not tell my boyfriend.”   
“I thought you were dead!”  
“I could have helped!”   
There was a long pause…   
“Do I have to take catatonic sad man too?”  
“That man has saved me more times than I can I count.”   
“He’s also a serial killer.”  
“He was brainwashed.”   
More silence.   
“You’re lucky I love you.”   
A deep inhalation. “I can not express how thankful I am.”   
“You will.”   
Disgusting kissing noises. Bucky internally recoiled. He couldn’t move out of posture. He’d been stuck for awhile now and everything felt stiff. Clint was in a proper medical bed in a building they had said was safe. Bucky couldn’t find his ability to question or think. It was mildly frustrating but that was the norm when he was in information recovery.   
Clint’s eyes fluttered but remained closed. In his fist was the stupid SimonSays. No one had asked him what his code words were given the assumption that he wouldn’t know them. He could do something if they had just asked. Maybe go out and fight and do whatever they needed. Instead he was stuck here watching Clint struggle to hold on to life after Bucky had stabbed him. It was hell.   
“Welp, it’s just you and me now.” Tony said.  
Bucky didn’t move.   
Tony crossed his arms. “I hate waiting too.” Was all he said as he sank back in one of the hospital chairs and so they waited. 

Clint’s eyes slowly opened everything felt off. Slithered to the side, a cotton blanket over his head. It took only a few moments from his eyes taking in the sleek lines of his surroundings that he remembered being stabbed. It wouldn’t be the first time. Well, it was the first time it could be considered deadly.   
“Bucky?” He couldn’t really hear anything. Cool. He flopped his head over and Bucky was standing in military posture staring straight ahead.   
“You stuck?” Clint slurred.   
Bucky didn’t respond. Could be he couldn’t hear him. Clint licked his dry lips and flexed his fingers. Ah. Dumb little toy. His thumb tripped over the buttons. They must have worked because Bucky’s shoulder’s relaxed. Clint smiled as his head turned and their gazes met.   
“Hey,” Clint said. Bucky walked over and came close. A hand ran over Clint’s hair. Clint leaned into it.   
“Climb on in.” Clint invited. “Imma take a nap soon anyway.”   
Bucky didn’t say anything but did as told moving gently. Clint turned his head towards him. Blood, gunpowder and sweat. Not comforting but at least Bucky.   
“It’s good to see you again.” Clint murmured. “Can I get rid of the toy now?”  
Bucky huffed. “No. Just for my sanity.”  
“Hrmm—Okay.” Clint muttered before the morphine caused him to sleep once again. 

The next person to walk into the hospital room was Natalia. Bucky was surprised but he didn’t move. Clint had tucked himself under Bucky’s chin and every inhale Bucky could feel inflating his chest was another bite of relief. He lived. Thank god.  
She sat looking worse for wear in a chair next to the bed. “He woke up then.”   
Bucky nodded.  
“So what were the code words?” She asked.   
Bucky his his smirk behind Clint's hair.   
“There weren’t any.” Bucky said.   
She raised an eyebrow.   
“I’m not going to tell.” Bucky answered back.   
She rolled her eyes. “I’m just happy to see the little dumbass is okay.”  
Bucky didn’t answer it was obvious.   
“You were never like this with me.   
“No. You were never affectionate either.”  
There was a pause.   
“I guess we need softer people.”  
“Given the way you looked at Bruce I’d agree.”   
Natalia averted her gaze. “Tell him I was here. I have to get ready for a press conference.”   
Bucky nodded again. They sat in comfortable silence until it was time for her to leave. 

“Lucky’s going to die,” Clint moaned. He was on so much morphine. The knife had nicked three different internal organs and the doctors had announced that he’d have to be in the bed and high for at least a week. Five days in he would not stop talking about the dog. It was driving Bucky nuts.  
“I can’t go get the dog Clint. I don’t even know where the kennel is.” Bucky snapped back.  
“He’s old and gonna die!” Clint continued as if Bucky hadn’t said anything.  
Bucky leaned over the bed and shoved a pen and paper in Clint’s face. “Give me the fucking address.”  
Clint frowned and picked up the instruments. He looked like he was gonna cry. “The dumb dog has on eye and he needs pizza.” Clint muttered. He handed Bucky the paper. “He’s like you but the pound doesn’t know he’s nice and are going to put him down.”  
Bucky sighed grabbed the paper shoving it in his pocket. He gently kissed Clint’s forehead. “I’ll get him, babe.”  
“Okay.” Clint said lying back in the bed.   
“Watch your baby show, I’ll be back.” Bucky said backing out the door.   
Clint nodded blinking slowly clearly about to sleep.  
Bucky walked down the corridor thinking. He couldn’t actually go get the dog. The US government had decided that only Stark Towers security system could hold him in until they were able to clear him (which they won’t because he was a war criminal and terrorist). So he was effectively stuck. Natasha should be able to get the fucking dog. He started to go down to the ground floor only to run into Steve in the elevator.   
Shit. Bucky had been avoiding him. Steve would always looked like a kick puppy when Bucky looked at him blankly when he began talking about the past. Bucky would feel bad then Steve would leave. Rinse. Repeat. The guilt cycles over and over.   
“Hey,” Steve said.   
“Can you go to this address and pick up a Clint’s dog.” Bucky asked. He did it instinctively to avoid emotions and thoughts.  
Steve took the slip of paper. “Sure. Uhm…”  
Bucky stood silently and begged for someone to come into the elevator.   
“I told Tony.” Steve said.   
Bucky closed his eyes. This was going to be a fucking nightmare. “That’s good.” Bucky gritted out. Honesty was important in a relationship, or so he heard.   
“He’s not happy. But he won’t kill you because you make Clint happy.”  
“If he tries, let him.”   
Steve glared at him. “He understands that you weren’t in control.”   
Bucky decided not to answer that. The elevator finally thankfully opens on the ground floor.   
Steve walked a head and toward the exit. “I should be back in a half an hour or so.”   
Bucky nodded finding one of the lobby couches and setting himself up there. He could wait.   
That wasn’t as bad as it could have been. Bucky had been expecting another attempt of brotherly bonding but instead it was just a warning that Tony Stark was going to be an even bigger dick because the Winter Soldier murdered his parents. Which…Fair. Bucky could handle that. At least Steve hadn’t tried to hug him or anything.   
Twenty minutes passed and the space next to him on the couch filled.   
“I will never like you.” Tony greeted.   
Bucky tilted his head in acknowledgement. “If I’m released soon we won’t even have to see each other often.”   
Tony nodded. “I won’t murder you unless you hurt Clint then you’re toast.”   
“Fair.” Bucky said.   
“Glad we had this conversation.” Tony said then abruptly left.   
Bucky sighed in relief. He was never leaving Clint’s room again. They’d get the dog and he will hole up in there. No more ex’s, no more sad puppy eyes, no more angry revenge driven men. Just him, Clint and a dog.   
Steve walked in with a dirty looking hound dog. Bucky stood and took the dog’s leash.   
“Do you even like dogs?” Steve asked stuffing his hands into his jacket.   
Bucky had a brief flash of being attacked by German Shepards as a training routine. “No.”  
Steve huffed a laugh. “Good luck.”   
Bucky shrugged and walked back to the elevator. Lucky pulled at the leash the moment they ended up on Clint’s floor. Bucky released it and watched as the dog’s lanky body sprinted in the direction of Clint’s room. Bucky followed at a much more sedate pace. Clint was outright sobbing when Bucky entered the room. He was wrapped around the dog like he was afraid it would disappear.   
Bucky felt a lump lodge in his throat. He walked around and got into bed behind Clint and pulled him into a hug.   
“I was so worried.” Clint sniffed.  
Bucky had had no idea. “Sorry.” Bucky said bland and unable to find another words. Clint didn’t say anything but just cried until the dog appeared to fall asleep and he’d fallen back against Bucky. Bucky just placed his cheek against Clint’s hair.   
“Can we get pizza?” Clint said his fingers still threaded through Lucky’s short brown fur.   
“Of course.”   
“How much longer are we stuck here?”  
Bucky stiffened and tightened his arms around Clint. “Indefinitely.”   
“Noooo…” Clint moaned.   
“We’ll get pizza and in a couple of days you can go back home.”   
Clint shoved his face into Bucky’s neck. “Nooo… you can’t leave?”  
“No.” Bucky leaned over to pick up Clint’s phone and typed in an order for pizza to whatever Stark Tower’s AI is. Occasionally it talks to him and then scares the crap out of him. It sent a small confirmation.   
“That’s bullshit. I just want to go home, lay in bed and watch Ghostbusters with you.”   
“I’m on lock down.”   
“You aren’t the only one who murdered people while brainwashed in this room,” Clint muttered. Bucky for a millisecond stared at Lucky suspiciously. Oh. He dipped his head onto Clint’s shoulder.   
“Let us have PTSD in peace in my shitty apartment.” Clint whined. “They didn’t let me anywhere near the investigation and now I’m stuck with them when all I want to do is have sex with my hot boyfriend and watch untold amounts of media.”   
“I want that too.”   
“You can fix my apartment too.” Clint said.   
Bucky laughed. “Of course.”   
They were quiet and Clint’s phone lit up saying that pizza was on they way.   
“Brainwashed?” Bucky murmured.   
“It was a god from another dimension. Not really the same.”  
“That’s still bad.”  
“Seventy years?” Clint said holding a hand up. “Forty-eight hours?” Clint barely lifted the other hand scale probably due to all the IV tubes.   
“Still bad.” Bucky stated not engaging in Clint’s argument.  
There was a knock on the door and Lucky’s ears perked. Bucky unraveled from Clint. He grabbed the box from a small robot that puttered away. Stark Tower always made him feel like he’s in a sci-fi movie.   
Bucky at on the other end of the bed and opened the box between him and Clint. Lucky stole a piece before Bucky could stop him. Clint smiled and patted the dog grabbing his own piece.   
“I don’t think your intestines can handle that,” Bucky said out of responsibility rather than actual fucks given.   
“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.” Clint said taking a bite.  
Bucky watched the dog and Clint, who had aged so much since the first time they met and wanted to be there forever. He wanted to watch his hair turn white and the laugh lines deepen. He wanted to be there when they inevitably bough another dog. He could be there. He would be there. It was the first certainty he’d had in a long time.   
“We can get through it as long as you don’t get stabbed again.” Bucky said.   
Clint gently kicked Bucky’s knee. “Sticks and stones will break my bones but words will never hurt me.”  
“I’m immune to sticks and stones.” Bucky deadpanned.  
Clint paused a mouthful of pizza then laughed with abandon. Bucky smiled with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for everything.

**Author's Note:**

> The alternative title to this was Clint Reprograms Bucky with a Simon Says but then there was the ANGST and I couldn't just title that.


End file.
